Help Me
by RikkiChadwick2011
Summary: When Katniss is rescued from the Capitol, everyone realizes she has no memory of anything, not even herself. Katniss, not really wanting the help, realizes she has to let someone in. But who? And what will it bring? My First Hunger Games Fanfic-For Lauren DISCONTINUED! PM for adoption **UNTIL 7/17/12**
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey! I'm still working on my other stories, but I thought I'd go a little OOC for myself! :) I love the Hunger Games with a FREAKING BURNING PASSION it hurts! This is like Post-Catching Fire, Pre-Mockingjay. So, it's my own idea! Basically, Katniss, before Peeta, was taken by Snow, and no one, not even herself, knows-or in her case, remembers-what happened. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games**

_**For you, Lauren!**_

I look around the room, and it seems familiar, but I can't really recall when I'd ever been here. I don't even recognize the man kneeling on the floor in front of me who claims he knows me. He claims I know him too, but that he has no idea what's wrong with me. "Do you know who I am?" he asks. He has the horrible stench of alcohol on his breath, but I don't cringe. I just shake my head, and he sighs. "Do you know who _you_ are?" he asks, hope in his eyes.

I shake my head.

This time he gets up from his spot in front of me on the floor, and walks around the room. "You," he begins, "are Katniss Everdeen. You're seventeen... you won the Hunger Games with Peeta Mellark. To the world, you're supposed to love him," he says, and the list goes on, but I'm not fully paying attention. I'm trying to remember. "Who are you?" I ask after a moment. "Haymitch Abernathy, sweetheart," he says. Something in me stirs, an idea flashes, but it's gone quickly as the word "_sweetheart_" comes out.

I watch the door open, and in pops a face I'm sure should be familiar, but I don't feel anything. He has bright blue eyes and blonde hair. He has a perfect jaw that makes me stare longer than I probably should be. He looks like a friendly man. "How is she?" he asks Haymitch. Haymitch mumbles something I can't quite catch, but the other man jerks his head slightly. "Mind if I talk with her?" he asks. Haymitch leaves the room, grabbing a bottle of wine I hadn't noticed before. "Who are you?" I ask, trying desperately to remember _anything_.

He looks a bit disappointed but says, "Peeta." I feel another "idea," if that's the word, flash through me, but it's gone quickly. "Peeta Mellark," I say slowly. He smiles a bit and nods. "You remember?" he asks, kneeling in front of me. "No... but Haymitch mentioned you. He said we're in love?" I ask. I see him struggling with an internal battle. But I don't understand why. "Well, we're _supposed_ to be," he says slowly. "I don't know what you mean," I reply. "It's a long story, Katniss," he says, rubbing my arm. "Will you tell me?" I ask. "Maybe later. I don't think you can handle it all right now," he says.

I feel a pang of anger at his words, but I don't say anything.

"Anything small I should know about?" I ask Peeta. He looks about ready to tell me more, but the door opens again, and suddenly Peeta's not in front of me anymore, but another man. He has dark hair, and luring eyes. I stare at his face a moment, and he seems more familiar than Haymitch or Peeta. "Catnip?" he asks. I look over at Peeta for help, but he doesn't say anything. He just watches this othe man closely. I open my mouth to say something, but I'm quickly pulled into the man's strong arms, and a feeling of safety comes over me.

"I don't know who you are," I say sadly, looking at the floor. "It's me; Gale," he says. "Gale Hawthorne," I say quietly. I feel the mood in the room shift a bit, and Gale says, "You remember me."

It's not a question. It's a statement.

I see Peeta leave the room. He doesn't seem angry... but he doesn't look happy. Disappointed maybe? "Do you remember anything else, Catnip?" Gale asks me, clearly not worried about the state Peeta's in. "Nothing no one's told me," I reply. "Maybe you can help me?" I say.

"Sure," Gale says. And I listen closely.

It's just around dinner time, when Gale and I are called into the dining room. Gale had already showed me around, what was apparently, my Victor's Home. I'm seated between my little sister Prim and my mother. They all watch me occasionally, and I try to ignore it, but it bugs me. The only person, I notice, who's eyes have never let my face are Peeta's. He seems to be studing me almost, and I try my hardest not to look his way.

Prim pulls on my sleeve, and I look at her. "Do you remember anything now?" she asks. I've grown tired of the question, but Prim's so innocent and curious, that I don't mind. "I remember Buttercup," I say lightly. Her face glows, and so does mine. Her smile is so amazing. "What was that, sweetheart?" Haymitch calls from across the table. "I said I remember Buttercup," I say back. "Is that it," Gale asks, next to Haymitch. I feel my patience snap and I stand up. "I just can't remember everything, okay? So don't push it! When I remember, I'll _tell_ you!" I cry, leaving the room.

I hear somebody's chair scrape the floor, but I don't turn around. I don't feel like talking anymore. As I make to slam my door, someone's arm holds it open, and I feel like screaming that they're stronger. "Go away, please," I say tiredly. "Can we talk, please? Just a minute?"

It's Peeta.

I sigh in defeat, let him in, and shut the door. "What happened?" he asks. "I'm just tired of people asking me if I remember! I don't!" I yell, sitting on my bed. He takes a seat beside me, and rubs my arm. As his calloused hands touch my scarred arm, I feel something.

_*He abandoned any pretense of even being my friend. I wrap my arms tightly around his neck before he can order me to do push-ups or something. Instead he pulls me in close and buries his face in my hair. Warmth radiates from the spot where his lips just touch my neck, slowly spreading through the rest of me. It feels so good, so impossibly good, that I know I will not be the first to let go._

I gasp, and he removes his hand from arm as though he'd hurt me. He waits for me to yell or something, but I just say, "You kissed me..." He seems confused for a moment, but says, "What are you..." "When I couldn't sleep... and we were I think, watching Old Hunger Games," I say. His face brightens as I recall that time. "That's all?" he asks. I nod. "For now..."

After a little while of just sitting and talking, Peeta gets up and makes for the door, but I grab his sleeve. "Stay with me?" He searches my face, but after a moment, he nods his head.

He helps me to my feet and brings me to the bed, where we lie down. He wraps his arms around my middle and burries his face in my neck. I get small shivers down my spine again, but his even breathing puts me to sleep quickly.

**A/N: So? :D You like? I actually loved writing this! So maybe I won't just write Titanic! :D Anyway, reviews are welcome! More to come!**

*(Collins 193)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, so Lauren loved it! :D She was speechless! So, I decided she needed more soon. She knows where I live, so if I don't post it may get ugly!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

_**For You Lauren!**_

I woke up to the sun streaming in my windows. The house was entirely silent, and as I turned around, I noticed the sheets were cold. Peeta hadn't been there for a while. He was there when I went to sleep. So where is he now?

I slip out of the bed, and make my way down to the kitchen, where I hope to find Peeta. He isn't there either. Now I'm a bit worried. I walk around the large house, occasionally calling out Peeta's name.

"Peeta!" I call more loudly. I hear a distracted, "Hm?" come from the room next door, and I smile, glad I'm not alone. "What'cha doing?" I ask, sitting down on the floor beside him. We're in the solarium, and Peeta's sketching the forest out back. "You can draw?" I ask. "Yeah. I used to sketch you and other things all the time," he replies. I feel stupid suddenly, but I realize he's forgotten my condition. He expects me to remember. "You did?" I ask. "Mm hm," he says, quickly sketching one of the old, singed trees.

"Do you have them?" I ask after a moment of silence. "I have your favorite one," he says, pulling a loose page out of the mess of sketchpad. He hands it to me, and I study it. It's me, lying on the floor, in his lap. I'm playing with the hem of his shirt, and I look content. Like that moment had meant more than anything ever.

And suddenly tears spring to my eyes, and Peeta's quick to notice. "What's wrong?" he asks. "I wish I could remember this... all of it," I sob, pressing my face into his shoulder. He holds my body as I fall apart, and suddenly I just wish everything was "normal." I just want to remember. "Oh, Peeta! I wish I could remember!" I cry, wrapping my arms around his neck. "You will..." he assures me. "I want to now! I don't want to wait," I say miserably, unwrapping one arm to wipe my eyes.

He takes my face into his hands, and places a light kiss on my right cheek. "You'll remember. But, as long as you're home... with everyone, that's all that matters," Peeta says. "I guess you're right, Peeta... but no one knows how frustrating it is! You try and try to remember, but it just doesn't come to you. And just when you think you have it, it goes away," I say, tears threatening to spill again.

Peeta pulls me close to his chest and plants a gentle kiss on the top of my head. "I want to remember it all, so badly!" I sob. "You will, Katniss. We'll help you," Peeta assures me. "Do you know how I got taken?" I ask. "I mean, I don't remember anything about myself, or of all of you or even what happened while I was at the Capitol," I say, hysterics cracking my voice. "None of us know. Only you did," he says. "But we'll try to figure it out, Katniss. And believe me, I will make the Capitol pay. You've been through a lot," he says. And just hearing him say this makes me realize just how selfless he is.

"Why do you think they wanted me?" I ask after a long pause. "They wanted you Katniss. They wanted you _dead_, so strongly," Peeta says. He has trouble with the word _dead_ when my name is in the same sentence apparently.

I'm sure he's tired of the interrogation, but one more question blurts out. "Why do you love me, Peeta?"

He seems shocked a moment, but he thinks it over and says, "Because you were never mine to have. Because you're nice than you think, and strong and bautiful. And you're so hard to convince, that it's laughable. You're so difficult to sway, too. And you're so hard to get for myself," he says the last part lightly, almost sheepishly.

"That doesn't sound like me," I say stupidly. It isn't harsh. I just don't know myself. "It's you. Trust me," Peeta says, rubbing circles on my back. "That's not even half of the reasons why I love you, Katniss," Peeta says, a small smile playing at his lips.

I'm sitting at the dining room table, looking through the millions of sketches Peeta had left. I know it's a bit rude, but I can't help myself. Most of the sketches are of scenery, or just random people. The rest of them are all of me. I don't know how he drew me so much. Then again, I don't know much anymore. We'd really only just been around each other a bit, I've been told, and these drawings spark little memories in me. I never saw him outside the bakery, I begin to realize.

How did he have so many drawings? As I look at them, I notice one that seems almost too familiar. It's me, but I look like I'm about to die. Not by some crazy person, but just dying. I look too tired to be considered healthy. I wonder how and where he got this one. I bring my face closer, and suddenly, a memory comes over me.

_The rain pours down, soaking my clothes entirely through. I watch through the windows of the bakery as Peeta's mother takes the rolling pin to his head. I see in his hands, two loaves of burnt bread. It isn't like him, the baker's son, to burn anything at all, really. His mother follows him outside, yelling at him to get rid of the bread. As she walks inside, my heavy eyes catch Peeta's, and he tosses one loaf to the pigs in the pen on the side of the bakery. I shift a bit as I notice he's still looking at me. He tosses the second loaf in my direction, and I nod my head in thanks, and run off before anyone else can see me. _

I don't think I've ever thanked him for the bread.

As I place the sketches back in order, I hear my front door open, and I know it's Peeta. I walk to the kitchen where I expect to see Peeta. As I enter the room, I see him.

Except it's not Peeta.

I'm scared, suddenly. This face is so unfamiliar.

"Hello, Katniss," he says.

**A/N: Okay! Cliffie! Who do you think '**_**he**_**' is? Is '**_**he**_**' evil or good? Oh, the suspense! :D I'll try to update again tomorrow! :D Thanks for the reviews so far, too!**


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